


Wan interlude

by Beginning_Returner



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Also Hetalians can detect the proximity of other Hetalians, But due to circumstances, CW: Mention of dismemberment, CW: Mention of torture, Cold War, Cold War Hetalia, Don't copy to another site, Gen, His natural "signature" is very low, In which Gilbert is the perfect secret agent candidate, No relations, Perfect training, So hard to detect, Then there's that whole "doesn't stay dead" deal...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 20:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18156851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beginning_Returner/pseuds/Beginning_Returner
Summary: A lot of things happened behind the scenes with the Hetalians during the Cold War. This is one of them.Dedicated to two awesome people becausethey brangthe discourseand inspired me to actually write out this idea I jotted down ages ago.





	Wan interlude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hashilavalamp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hashilavalamp/gifts), [stirringwinds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stirringwinds/gifts).



**November, 1949.**

The tall officer extracted pen and papers from his briefcase as she laid her own on the desk opposite him. He opened his pen, and then began by saying:

"So, how fares the subject?"

"Well enough. He eats, he drinks, his stool is normal."

"What of his regeneration rate?"

She frowned, flipped through a few pages of graphs.

"It has noticeably increased as of late, actually."

The officer made a quick note on his paper.

"Is there something of which I should be informed?"

"Pay the matter no heed, Comrade. Anything else worth remarking on this point?"

"Not really. As I have reported previously, it seems bones, nerves and veins regenerate first, followed by muscles and skin." She paused. "The face alone is particular, since there, the eyes are first to regenerate after the bone and veins."

"Don't go falling in love with him now."

"I have never had direct contact with the subject, and the staff who cares for him and prepares the experiments is regularly rotated."

The officer smiled grimly. "As to be expected of an exceptional scientist like you. And now, to the matter of the experiments. How successful is the subject in completing the tasks?"

"I am pleased to report that he is highly successful. When put in a room barely higher than his shoulders with a toxic gas and presented a lever on one end that will aerate the chamber, the subject will do all in its power to reach the lever, crawling forward, then expiring, reviving, and crawling again until the goal is reached."

"I see. So he does eventually achieve his goal, at all costs."

"Indeed he does. Freezing, heat, constrained spaces, poison, in the end he does seem to overcome. There are even some incidences- unbelievable as it may seem, of a hand or foot, though separated from the body, acting independently to ensure survival."

"Good. There is no doubt he will be most useful to us, then."

The scientist blinked. She had expected somewhat more of a reaction to her last statement. But it seemed she was not to have it, and as always, it was best not to enquire further.

The officer got up and walked toward the large one-way mirror that occupied the back of the room. Arms folded behind his back, he contemplated the scene within, of the subject, unconscious in his cot.

The scientist got up and stood beside him.

"I can't say I know what motivates him to complete the tasks, though."

"Neither can I, Comrade. Perhaps it is only his instinct for survival."

The scientist frowned. "I daresay there's more to it than that, though. Just what is he, anyway?"

The officer turned his face to her. "You have received the briefing, Comrade. You know he is not human." He looked back at the figure on the bed. It was almost paler than the sheets on which it lay.

"In truth, he does not even deserve to be called such. Not after what he's done."

The officer turned away. "I thank you for this briefing, Comrade. Comrade Stalin and the Central Committee will be most pleased with your results."

So saying, Ivan Braginski retrieved his cap from the coat rack and set it straight upon his regulation hair, leaving into the grey night with the briefcase full of papers she'd handed over to him.

She did not tell him of the time the subject once known as Gilbert Beilschmidt had sat bolt upright, squinting desperately, sweating, hands clawing at sheets, looking straight at the mirror across from him-

Straining to open his mouth, to find the words, to form them-

The chamber was bugged, of course, and the feed came into the observation room.

But even then, she barely heard him speak, heard him say-

"You're only following orders, aren't you?"

A whisper dry like leaves in a forsaken park.

 

_You're only following orders,_

_aren't you?_

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **"his regeneration rate...has noticeably increased as of late":** [What was officially founded a month before the story?](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Germany)
> 
>  **a forsaken park:** [It lay quite abandoned at the time, I presume.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanssouci_Park)
> 
> If you are confused about this story, please see [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Superior_orders) for details.
> 
> My blog [is right here](https://modoru-mono.tumblr.com/). I mostly post history and archaeology with a smattering of good Hetalia. Feel free to give me a yell on ask or messenger over there if you enjoyed the fic!


End file.
